Arms around her middle, shaking like a leaf, Morgaine barely managed a sneer. “And what does my body know?”
“That you exist to submit. That there will be joy and pleasure in obedience. That Alphas are the only males capable of bringing you proper release.”
What would her mother think if she had seen this? The sweet woman would have been appalled. Females in the settlement would never have been put upon in this way.
Ashamed down to her core, Morgaine looked back at her fluid-smeared hand, “I need to wash this off.”
“That is unnecessary, offensive even to the Alpha who gave you his scent. Now, hold still while I dress you.” Draped over Sergeant Uriel’s arm was a cloth of royal blue, the same shade as her eyes. He lifted it over her head, arranging the long panel to hang from her neck. The garment left her back bared, the two hanging ends doing little more than swathing each breast. Around her waist he fashioned the two tails, knotting them, twisting, and fussing until one panel fell in front to cover her sex, the other kissed the skin over her rear.
There was no modesty in such clothing. Every curve, every hint of secret flesh was on display if she so much as breathed.
“All Omegas of breeding age wear such a garment. Your mate’s rank and title will be embroidered on the back panel.” Next, he pointed to the fabric over her mound. “And here. Should another Alpha see you, they will know to whom you belong.
“The panels across your chest can be pulled aside to bare your breasts for your mate. Eventually, they will facilitate the easy feeding of an infant. Below the waist nothing constrictive will impede mutual pleasure. Should you grow aroused, your slick will saturate your thighs, not the fabric. And it is easy to remove for mating.”
Slick... ther
e was that word again.
“Slick?”
As if to demonstrate the garment’s easy access, Sergeant Uriel reached under the front panel and abruptly swiped through the remnants of leaking fluid smeared between her thighs. He even went so far as to hold his fingers before her eyes so she might see how the pads of his fingers slipped when rubbed together. “Slick. I assume you grasp its purpose?”
Uncertain if it was possible to be more mortified, heat rushed to Morgaine’s face.
The cretin had the gall to look marginally amused. “Omegas respond to Alpha overtures by preparing their bodies for vigorous mating. Slick is released. Alphas, in turn, grow excited. Your pheromones demand that they fill you with seed. The corporal gave you seed. Instead of shaking off his offering, you should have rubbed it between your legs or across your breasts. Next time, do not repeat the same mistaken behavior.”
All of this insanity was too much. She fell to her knees, gripping at his legs, and begged for mercy. “If I could have a real dress, a modest dress, he wouldn’t see the slick. He wouldn’t want to touch—”
Ignoring her protest, Uriel yanked at her arm until Morgaine wobbled to her feet. In response to her theatrics, he gave a tug to the fabric at her waist. One undone knot, and the garment began to fall to the floor. “This is a real dress, but if you don’t want it...”
Snatching the slipping edges before her nipples were on display, Morgaine clutched it to her chest, and backed away as if he were more of a threat than Esin. “I want it.”
Their eyes met, Uriel ceasing his purr as if to drive home what was at stake should she be difficult. “Then obey and be still.”
Or another lesson would take place.
“Return to where you were standing.” He snapped his fingers and pointed to the space before him. “This is the only warning I am going to give. Do not back away from me again.”
She crept forward, hunched like a broken doll, and let the man’s hands go where they would.
Unlike Esin, Uriel was not interested in tweaking her nipples or palming her ass. His movements were perfunctory, his objective simple: teaching her how to put on the real dress.
Once the scandalous blue garment was back in place, he said, “You have questions, Morgaine, and are encouraged to ask them. My duty is to answer them as clearly and honestly as I can. What is coming will be difficult for you if you do not take this opportunity to heart. Remember that. Do not waste your time on hysterics.”
“Coming for me?” Penetration? Subjugation? Humiliation? What else did these monsters have in store? Hysterics seem the natural reaction to this nightmare.
“I will make you a plate of food.” He took her elbow, leading her to the table where she’d been sick. “As you eat, we will talk.”
Sitting where she was directed, Morgaine tried to make that dress cover as much as possible.
The vomit on the table Sergeant Uriel covered with a nearby napkin, picking through the foodstuffs on display to arrange a plate of simple bread and nuts. When it was before her, he cocked his head for her to eat, and said, “In Corporal Esin’s presence, slick dripped from your cunt. What followed upset you.”
Cunt? That was the most vulgar word Morgaine knew. No one spoke it casually while wiping up cold vomit with a silk napkin.
So she kept her mouth shut and her eyes on the plate.
Silence seemed the answer Sergeant Uriel desired. As if to reward her restraint, a soft purr filled the air between them. “This transition is only as difficult as you make it.”